Five Night's of Defiance
by Ghosterr
Summary: Five nights, four animatronics, one stubborn night watchman. Mike Schmidt, desperate for quick money, applies for a job that looks easier than it really is. An egregious error on his part, and now fate will make him pay for such folly. Can he survive four scythe-less deaths? Can he free the trapped souls? Can he tame their unruly spirits? Or, will he met the same fate as theothers.
1. Chapter I: The Night of Deception

Author's Note: So, I am not really turning this into a thing on my fanfiction list, so far I have only a one shot in mind with each animatronic being more humanized in the sense that they have more human features; while still retaining certain aspects of the animal parts. They will still be robots, but will fully believe they are human; at night at least, except for Freddy; who knows he is a robot/cyborg and knows why the group have a consciousness. Note that there will be references and much stuff based upon the "lore" and "myths" hidden in the game. I might make this thing longer, I might not, I also might make a one shot of the game's sequel when it comes out and after I learn how the game plays and its possible updated lore. Who knows? I am simply taking a break from everything, taking a fresh breath on everything. It wont be forever, I swear my graveyard Ghost's and Ghouls.

* * *

><p>The brunette flipped through the newspaper, eyes scanning the classifieds in hopes that there would be an easy job with a not so hovel pay. He needed money quite desperately if he was to pay rent, keep himself nourished and start a savings reserve for college. That's when his eyes spotted the article for a spot as a night guard. The picture was a colored image; against a black and white background, of a light brown haired and fair-skinned boy; done up in a long and teased spiked style, with light brown, mechanical bear ears jutting out clear as day just above where human ears would be. He wore a snazzy brown vest covering a white undershirt that had sleeves going down about five inches from where the vest cut off and to his waist. Around his neck was a neat red bow tie and on top his head was a fancy top hat with a stripe near the bottom colored like the fake fur on his mechanical ears and in his right hand was a microphone. However, the most striking thing about this automaton was his eyes, large orbs of white with a hue of neon blue in the center; blemished only by a black dot right in the middle of the iris. These eyes looked alive, yet dead, soulful, yet soulless, here, yet not at the same time. It unnerved the brunette to his very core, making him shudder something fierce with a chill sprawling up his spine; playing it like a xylophone.<p>

Underneath the picture was the title in big, colorful letters, "Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria looking for Night Guard, wage of fifteen dollars an hour from twelve pm to six am, payment given at the end of every Friday. Come to..." then the address of the pizzeria. Sounds good... he pondered with disturbed curiosity, pays not completely crap, I suppose... hours are a bit shitty, but I can focus on daytime things as long as I sleep right after I get home from work... what could be the harm? I mean, it's just a kid's pizzeria. With that, he reached over and pulled out a red pen from his bedside night-stand; circling the job in a large and red circle.

* * *

><p>Saturday and Sunday passed uneventfully, a few of the staff members of the pizzeria sat at a table closest to the exit of the party room. The women; dressed in the employee's uniform consisting of a pair of multi-colored striped pants with an equally ridiculous red shirt that had her name tag on it, was Jamie. Jamie held her head in the palm of her hand, tracing invisible figure eights on the cheap white cloth covered table with the other. A huff passed her lips as her eyes shifted to the three other staff members-Clyde, Johnson and Marie, with an agitated gaze. She continued this pattern meticulously for a moment more, before raising a curled fist and ramming it down onto the cloth covered wooden table; causing her workmates to jump in fright.<p>

"Why do **_we_ **haft to stay here and wait for the goddamned new guy?!" She groaned for the thirtieth time; after the manager told them to stay behind until the new security guard arrived to show him around.

Johnson sighed in annoyance, tired of his coworker's irksome complaining. The new guy applied for the job two days ago, last Friday, and now; it being Monday, he was suppose to be here at nine pm so they could give him a rundown of what he'd be doing and where he'd be doing it. That was two hours and forty-five minutes ago, and it was getting close to ..._ that_ _time_. All four employees were nervous, there was no denying that. For they had been told to never stay past twelve in the building, that it was a violation of the code. But that wasn't the real reason they were afraid, no, it wasn't till hearing of the bite of '87 and the recent disappearances of the night guards, strange smells and odd liquids coating the floor and the spare automaton's costumes; being told to NEVER look inside of the suits when they cleaned the mess up, did the employees really start questioning what the place was like after dark. Marie looked nervously from the peeved Johnson to the irate Jamie, hoping they wouldn't start arguing again. She did so hate it when her friends argued.

"Look, Jamie..." Johnson choked out, trying to keep his annoyance from slipping into his voice, "we were told to fucking wait till the man gets here and by god, we are going to do, _just_. **that**...!"

"But, _why_?! Why I ask you! It is fifteen fucking minutes till _that_ time and god knows I ain't waiting here to have whatever those... **things**" she spat pointing towards the closed curtain of the nearby stage, "do to the damn night guards here to me!"  
>"So what? You plan on leaving Marie, Clyde and myself here alone? Some friend you are."<br>"Guys, can we please not fight? We're all just a little nervous... right, Clyde?" Marie questioned, looking hopefully towards Clyde.  
>Clyde stared at her for a moment before giving a soft shrug.<p>

That's when they heard the front door of the establishment open. Quite happily, each one of the four raced to see the new guy; glad as all heck to finally leave this forsaken building.

* * *

><p>Mike drove up and parked out in the front of the odd building. It had a large neon sign that; while turned off, still had a soft iridescent glow of a multitude of colors; just like the advertisement. Besides that, the entire façade of the building practically gave off an aura of deterioration since the `50's. The building's bricks were chipped, a few letters would spark and cut out for a moment, the paint was chipped, etc. As if whatever divine entity was hell-bent on giving him a reason not to continue forwards, the sky darkened even more than it had been, a flash of lightning striking the air in the distance with a resulting crack of thunder; not to long till the rain followed in its footsteps. It was pouring cats and dogs and he quite quickly became soaked straight down to the bones; completely drenching the light blue guard uniform and guard hat the company sent him prior to the man's arrival. He sighed softly before walking in, a soft squelching following his footsteps.<p>

Not long after entering did Mike met four of the staff. They appeared quite nervous, if not terrified about something and proceeded to give a rather hasty run down of what his job was. He was to simply watch the cameras of the building, while watching the automatons that were now backstage-concealed by the stage's large purplish curtain. The entire building looked run down and old, like it had too limited of a budget to truly keep it speck and span twenty-four-seven. They simply showed him where the four; not just three, robots were located, showed him his office, then quite hurriedly escaped the building just as the clock turned to 12:00 pm. Mike scratched his head in confusion to their erratic and scared behavior, but he didn't have much time to think or even care. He had a job to do.

* * *

><p><span><strong><em>The First Night at Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria<br>12:01 pm, March 21st,_ _1994_**

The office was more "extravagant" than he anticipated for a place that seemed to be so cheap, that it couldn't even keep its own building from losing every scrap of respect. His work space was small, enough room for about three people to stand shoulder to shoulder in and there still barely be enough space. There were two doors, each with two buttons opposite of the other; one button labeled lights and the one below it door, apparently they could afford such high-tech metal doors; which had to be resistance to explosives to a degree, and yet couldn't afford to keep the building tidy. Inside it was a desk with crumbled up papers, a drink or two, a non-functioning computer tucked away into the corner the table was pressed up against, a few papers and pencils, other office supplies, a rolling office chair, a florescent light hung limply by a black cord strung up to the roof, a phone with a yellow sticky note stuck to it, but the most interesting of all, a portable tablet. It was smooth, clean and pristine with its black and inactive screen.

With a squishy slap, Mike took a seat on the measly office chair; sighing in aggravation. He detested water and the rain, especially when it drenched him like this. It made him feel weird and generally uncomfortable. He took off the security guard's hat and wrung it out over the dirty floor, then plopped it on the odd table. He proceeded to do that with his shirt and the pants for a moment; trying to make it a tad bit easier to sit in them, before putting them back on. But, the damage had been done and now the seat was irritably wet. Great... this is gonna be a fun night, he thought exasperatedly; drawing out each vowel.

Mike turned his attention to the telephone and its sticky note. It read, "pick up for instructions" and despite how the four employees gave an "explanation" of what his job was and how it works, this sounded quite useful. He hesitantly reached out and picked up the phone; putting it to his ear while holding it with his left shoulder. At the same time he used his free hands to pick up the tablet. There was a soft droning sound before a recorded message began playing. It was of a man, speaking in a monotone voice, almost bored actually.

"_Hello, hello? Uh, I wanted to record a message for you to help you get settled in on your first night. Um, I actually worked in that office before you. I'm finishing up my last week now, as a matter of fact. So, I know it can be a bit overwhelming, but I'm here to tell you there's nothing to worry about. Uh, you'll do fine. So, let's just focus on getting you through your first week._ Okay?" He spoke with general kindness... in a sense.

He held his middle finger on the power button, then when the screen lit up with a light blue background with a single icon titled, "Camera Feeds". He proceeded to tap his index finger onto the icon in a droll-like state as he listened to the man speaking. The icon disappeared and the screen flickered to a bit of static snow as a loading symbol appeared in the middle of the screen.

_ "Uh, let's see, first there's an introductory greeting from the company that I'm supposed to read. Uh, it's kind of a legal thing, you know. Um, "Welcome to Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. A magical place for kids and grown-ups alike, where fantasy and fun come to life. Fazbear Entertainment is not responsible for damage to property or person. Upon discovering that damage or death has occurred, a missing person report will be filed within 90 days, or as soon property and premises have been thoroughly cleaned and bleached, and the carpets have been_ replaced."

The brunette raised an eyebrow in suspicion, how would he get hurt? This was a kid's pizzeria with robots that sing and talk for god's sake, what could be so dangerous? Sure... I mean it is pretty dirty a-and the place isn't exactly the safest looking building in the world... but, come on, why would all those measures be necessary, he pondered as the tablet remained in its loading state. He heard a few odd noises coming from behind his officer, odd laughter that was as deep as trench and gravely as one too, it seemed to come from no where. However, it spooked him enough to sit the tablet down on the table, hold the phone to his ear, and roll towards the left door, then the right; turning on each's light. He gazed down the dark hall ways that were barely illuminated by the faulty lightning that flickered above the doorway. My be my imagination... he thought.

_ "Blah blah blah, now that might sound bad, I know, but there's really nothing to worry about. Uh, the animatronic characters here do get a bit quirky at night, but do I blame them? No. If I were forced to sing those same stupid songs for twenty years and I never got a bath? I'd probably be a bit irritable at night too. So, remember, these characters hold a special place in the hearts of children and we need to show them a little respect, right? Okay."_

"Quirky...? Their programmed robots welded to the ground for Christ's sake. How can they be quirky, not like they're alive." He mumbled quietly as he rolled back up to his desk; picking up the now loaded tablet. The screen was a light gray with naval blue lines outlining the entire facility with square markers tilted "Camera One", "Camera Two", Three, Four, all the way up to ten total cameras. Had some extra cash to buy this, yet not a janitor, Jesus... thought the man. There appeared to two cameras in each hallway that connected with the security room, one in the kitchen, one in the bathrooms; which was kind of illegal, one in the party room, one near the stage, one in the supply closet, one in a place called pirate's cove and the last in a place called a workshop for the robots. It was an odd layout and looked very inefficiently placed.

_ "So, just be aware, the characters do tend to wander a bit. Uh, they're left in some kind of free roaming mode at night. Uh...Something about their servos locking up if they get turned off for too long. Uh, they used to be allowed to walk around during the day too. But then there was The Bite of '87. Yeah. I-It's amazing that the human body can live without the frontal lobe, you know?"_

This statement caused his eyes to widen, even stop him while in mid-click of the camera near the stage. He took a pause, a long moment to consider the words. The bite of '87...? What could that mean... he wondered. He sat the tablet down and held the phone closer to his ear and listened with the up-most focus. He made a note of each word and gave it genuine thought. He figured that he'd wait till he finished speaking before doing anything else. Best to know all of this stuff right away, rather than later... thought Mike.

_ "Uh, now concerning your safety, the only _real_ risk to you as a night watchman here, if any, is the fact that these characters, uh, if they happen to see you after hours probably won't recognize you as a person. They'll p-most likely see you as a metal endoskeleton without its costume on. Now since that's against the rules here at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, they'll probably try to...forcefully stuff you inside a Freddy Fazbear suit. Um, now, that wouldn't be so bad if the suits themselves weren't filled with crossbeams, wires, and animatronic devices, especially around the facial area. So, you could imagine how having your head forcefully pressed inside one of those could cause a bit of discomfort...and death. Uh, the only parts of you that would likely see the light of day again would be your eyeballs and teeth when they pop out the front of the mask, heh."_

_ "Y-Yeah, they don't tell you these things when you sign up. But hey, first day should be a breeze. I'll chat with you tomorrow. Uh, check those cameras, and remember to close the doors only if absolutely necessary. Gotta conserve power. Alright, good night."_

The man hesitantly placed the phone back into its rightful position, picking up the tablet with a rather disturbed mind. His own imagination was betraying his rationality, simply trying to imagine what the visual image of what the night guard describe would look like; practically making him dry heave. Mike wanted to take his mind off the thought, so he turned his attention back to the tablet's screen. He made a soft click on the camera closest to the stage and noticed something quite obvious and rather odd. _The curtain was open. _What really made it queer was that it had been tightly shut and practically locked into place last time he saw it, yet here it was, open to reveal the trio of animatronics to the world.

The employees had told the names of the four robots before hurriedly racing out the doors of this place. The one in the middle was obvious, he had been on the advertisement, he was Freddy. He looked exactly how he did in the advertisement, but the rest of his body could be seen. He had on formal looking jeans that matched his general outfit and formal dance shoes to boot. However, his skin looked a bit dirty with a bit of dark crimson caked into his fake skin and there was even a faded crimson hand print on his left eye.

The one on his left was called Chica. Her general color palette was yellow with fair-skin and golden hair with slightly red colored ends that was a bit wild with the locks of teased hair; a few locks of hair standing straight up. Her face was somewhat egg shape, but still retained normal features. Her optics or eyes were again, a vast pit of white with a hue of purplish-pink that shone like lasers in the darkness. She had a bit of make up: eyeliner, lip gloss, blush, etc. which was quite the odd choice considering it was meant to be a kid's entertainment source. There was a bit of pizza sauce staining the corners of her mouth and on her long fingernails. Her body was petite and thin, fitting into a golden-colored corset that went down to her ankles; showing off an odd choice of golden tennis shoes and an odd bib wrapped around her neck that read, "Let's eat!". She reminded Mike of a really southern woman in the fifties. Her dress appeared to be made of duck feathers or the feathers from a chicken? It was hard to tell.

Then the third, Bonnie. She was as overly sexual as Chica was, quite disturbing considering that they preformed for children. She wore make just like Chica, only different colors that seemed to fit her color palette. She was fair-skinned and had rather long, wavy, indigo hair that reached down to her shoulders. Her eyes were exactly like the other two's eyes, except they were a more indigo hue. She wore a purple bow tie; like Freddy, and wore a sleeveless version of a purple and white waiter's outfit; only with a low cut near the chest area, and a pair of purple converse. Her body was like Chica's, no where near as big and muscular looking than the Freddy robot. However, like Freddy, there was something rather peculiar about her ears. It was that of a rabbit's ears, purple and white fake furred rabbit's ears protruding from the top of her head like lightning rods.

Supposedly, there was a fourth named Foxy, a pirate of sorts. However, he wasn't among the trio; probably having his own section to himself. The block on the outlined map of the building that read, "Pirate's Cover" was more than likely where he resided.

Mike kept the toggled onto that room for a while more, before setting the tablet down on the table; toggling its power saving mode. He stretched out his arms and legs, making little circle motions with his hands and ankles as he did. This was going to be an easy job, he could just feel it. It would be the easiest money he's ever earned, thinking this thought, a large grin crept up his lips. He leaned into his chair and crossed his arms behind his head then propped his feet on top of the table. A droll hour passed slowly as nothing really interesting occurred and after two more hours passed, Mike found himself drifting off to sleep.

* * *

><p>Another hour passed, Mike was fast asleep, unaware of anything that took place in his surroundings. He was a light sleeper however, so when he heard the sound of footsteps creeping around, outside his office, he awoke with a start. He made a few grunts and groans as he jumped, head whipping from side and side. His breathing was rushed and his eyes practically bulging from their sockets. It took a moment before the man realized where he was, and when he did, he made an uneasy chuckle.<p>

"Damn place..." he mumbled to himself, "making me jumpy..."

This is when Mike realized that he had lost track of time in the nap. He raised his arm to take a gander at his wrist, seeing that his watch read 5:59 am; just about to turn turn to six. He smiled softly, turning the tablet off, placing it on the table, and walked out of the booth. He whistled as he trotted down the hall-having to take a trip close to the stage to leave the building. As he strolled down the party room, he took a pause to stare at the animatronics. He smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he scoffed towards the machines.

"So, you things "wander" the building? Please, doesn't even look like you can correctly speak if you ask me..." He spat in a self-humored voice; referring to the rather unclean state they were in.  
>"Hey, maybe if your lucky, if and when this place shuts down for the obvious reasons, you'll get compacted into trash cans. That way, at least you can be useful to something in your nonexistent lives."<p>

He chuckled at his own insults, glad he could do it to something without them having a snappy comeback that would leave him feeling outwitted. He began walking towards the exit again, stopping just a foot shy from the door when he felt a pair of three lifeless, icy eyes glowering at him; almost four. Mike took a glance over his shoulder, regretting when he did.

What he saw was something he'd soon not forget. The three machines on the stage were all staring, glowering darkly, offended by his comments; the Freddy robot bearing the darkest of the three glares. Time seemed to slow down to a halt as the surroundings melted away, their stares bored into his soul and looked ready to break free from their moorings that bound them to the floor. But, just as they looked ready to maul me like an angered bear, a loud alarm went off throughout the entire building; causing the automatons to re-enter their gaze on nothing once more. Time once again ticking on its never stopping march and the surroundings melded back into their previous mold; if but a little distorted from a dimmed vision. Shivers listlessly played his spine like a xylophone made of bones. He didn't spend another second in the building; hesitant when he left the building.

* * *

><p>Author's Note: So, whatcha guys think? Was it okay? Should I keep doing this? Should I turn it into a series...? If not, I am probably going to keep this a oneshot, probably add four other chapters for the four other nights. Perhaps. It wont be as updated as frequently as my other stuff, so if I do make this a thing it wont be the priority of my focus. Until then my graveyard ghosts and ghouls, bye-bye!<p> 


	2. Chapter II: The Night of Fright

Author's Note: Okay, I guess this **_is_** going to be a thing I'm working on. I guess it was inevitable for me doing this, I suppose. However, I have decided that I will only ever post/work on these chapters when I have posted and/or updated one chapter of my other fanfictions. This is the rule I've set and will enforce unto myself. That's all for now my Graveyard Ghosts and Ghouls, so I will see you next time, Bye-Bye!

* * *

><p>It was about eleven in the morning and Mike had barely gotten any sleep whatsoever. Those eyes, he thought, those damned eyes, they looked at me, like, stared at me! His thoughts swarmed his mind like angry wasps buzzing around an intruder, completely obsessed with the fact the animatronics actually <em>looked<em> even _glared_ at him like they were sentient creatures. Their stare was one of hatred and anger, as if he had offended them with his comments. But, that was impossible, right? There was no way that an inanimate object could actually process the words spoken by a sentient creature; especially if they were programmed things.

Maybe I'm just over thinking it...? Yeah, that's probably it, they probably had a glitch in their servos or their program freaked out for a second, that has to be it-

Suddenly a rustling echoed throughout his apartment, making him open his eyes and sit up fearfully. He reached over to his bedside oaken nightstand drawer and pulled the bead shaped string; making the bulb of his lamp click in response with a flash of illumination. Everything inside his apartment's bedroom was illuminated by the lamp's almost florescent radiance, revealing that the noise was simply caused by his pet cat whom had jumped down from his dresser to the floor. The Toyger cat looked at him with wide pupil-ed eyes and drawled out a monotone meow. He let out a breath that he hadn't even realized he'd been holding in, he hadn't even realized how deep his heart felt as it struck against his chest.

"You... you scared me little guy-" he stroked the back of the cat as it jumped up to sleep next to him, "I-I thought you were something else entirely..."

The cat curled up into a ball, snuggled up against his bare chest like it was his own personal bed. The feline's purring somewhat reassure Mike, not just himself. It always had, ever since he got him as a kitten ten years ago. Mike sighed and scratched and rubbed behind the cat's ears as he stared blankly into the nearby wall. Thoughts, bees, hornets, wasps, all synonyms to describe the questions that fervently badgered his mind. I just need some sleep, he thought wearily, some sleep'll do me some good. With that in mind, he snuggled into his blankets and laid a hand on his cat as his eyes gingerly shut; letting the sweet embrace of slumber take hold. This do-good-er had marvelous dreams at first, the dreams of a child and his unkempt fantasies. He had one dream where he was a hero with the greatest of bravado and the mightiest of might that could never be rivaled. There was even a dream where he was a valiant knight of the highest order who followed the gentlemen's code to the T and had just set off to save the damsel in distress.

All these dreams were sweet and carefree, but they would not last forever. These were signs of a calm, a lull before the true storm would come. These next four days were going to be utterly chaos and he had no idea of the fresh hell that would await him in that building.

* * *

><p>Five hours passed and the staff at Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria were serving the few families that still came to the building since the bite of '87. The laughter of the children were quieter than they had been back in the "golden age" of the pizzeria and the tedious songs that the animatronics played only worked to increase the aggravation Jamie felt. Not only that, but the look of the animatronics unnerved her to no end. Why would the makers of the pizzeria desire animatronics that resembled humans, but still had aspects of animals? It made no sense to Jamie, which only worked at aggravating her even further. It wasn't till seven p.m. did any of the employees get a moment of peace and quiet, when all the families finally left the dying building.<p>

Normally when the families finally left, the employees would either all gather around a single or two tables and talk as a group or form large clusters of friends to find their own table to sit at. But, on especially tiring days like this one, only close friends got together and conversed with each other; the staff separating into many clusters if so. Jamie, Johnson, Marie and Clyde were one such group that went off on their own; favoring a table closest to the stage. They were tired, weary, and it was clearly evident in their miens: glassy eyes, sagging eyelids, traces of gray beneath their eyes, very droopy posture, everything about them reeked of exasperation.

"So... how was your guys' days?" Marie asked in a drawl tone.

Her comment was met with sighs if exhaustion and annoyance; mostly from Jamie.

"Not well... I take it..." She murmured.

They sat in silence for a moment more. Each one was in various positions: Marie was leaning on Clyde, resting her head on his right shoulder, Clyde was somewhat hunched over as he kept his elbow planted on the table while holding his head in the palm of his hand, Jamie was resting her head against the cloth covered table, and Johnson had his head tilted back as he leaned back in exhaustion. Not a single friend spoke up, almost entertained by the silence, until Clyde did something he seldom did. He spoke.

"Hey... you guys hear about that new watchmen?" He mentioned in a hushed voice.

Each employee at the table gawked at their normally silent friend, completely baffled that he spoke a whole sentence. It took a moment for the friends to come down from the shock before they could answer; surprise evident in their own mannerisms.

"N-no! Wh-what happened to him? He end up like the rest?!" Snapped a rather curious Jamie.

Clyde took a moment to scratch his cheek and yawn softly before responding to the somewhat snide question, "No, in fact, he's still working here apparently."

Not a single word more left Clyde's mouth, no matter how much his friends pleaded with him ti continue. Clyde was a person that, while almost inhumanly quiet, could find out a lot of things he shouldn't be capable or allowed to know. Secretly he knew every lie, every truth, every dark and dirty secret of his friends. But never did he let it show, nor did he ever use it against them. That wouldn't be fun for Clyde, simply finding information that he has yet to learn was the funner of the two choices. He took even greater pleasure in either finding knowledge that was not commonly known or was rather difficult to learn/earn.

Soon every employee receded from their cliche groups and began cleaning up the facility. They took all the used cone shaped party hats and threw them away, replacing them with the replacements from the storage closet. They mopped up the floor till it was as spic and span as it ever possibly could be. They nervously tidied up the animatronics, the mechanics checking their servos and programming weren't acting up whilst a few other employees timidly cleaned the machines. There was definitely a serious air of nervous about those less than ten feet from the animatronics, but they still went on to do their jobs. They still needed their pay after all.

After it was all said and done, the employees gathered their personal belongings, dressed back into their normal clothing, placed their uniforms in their individual lockers; tucked away in the basement, and went on their merry way. Each one was over joyed to the fact of leaving at nine p.m. Not a single one payed any mind to the possible dangers or horrors that would await the new night watchmen, but even the ones who knew-Clyde-did nothing to warn or stop it from happening, either.

* * *

><p><span><strong><em>Second Night at Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria<br>11:56 p.m., March 22nd, 1994_****_  
><em>**

The brunette drove up to the forsaken building in a droll state; still quite weary from the prior day's event. He himself was uncertain if he wanted to even come back to this building, let alone continue the job. What if there are health risks, what if the machines actually try to stuff me inside one of those suits, and many more fearful questions glazed his mind in a scared haze. But, he needed the money and, as of yet, he had no other option or source of income at the current junction of time. He stayed parked outside the building, still uncertain if he could actually go through with this insane job, but in the end the need for money outweighed his subconscious, primal fears of death.

An almost inaudible click pierced the dreary air outside his automobile and soon his footsteps drowned it out, replaced it, and it too soon disappeared into the suffocating silence. It was then the brunette's turn to fade away, as he opened the right door of the double door entrance.

The night guard trekked down the brief entrance lobby and entered the "party room" as the camera in that room was titled. It was like last night; if not just a tad bit cleaner, but something that really struck him as odd was that the stage's curtain was already pulled back. The three animatronics were plain as day, sticking out like a soar thumb against the backdrop of the stage. They each bore a joyful smile as they held their instruments-Bonnie with an acoustic guitar, Chica with a tambourine and Freddy with his microphone-that simply made Mike rather suspicious. Their smiles looked fake, stitched on, agonizingly deceptive as they grew weary of singing the same repetitive song seven times a day, everyday, all day. In the back of his deepest heart he felt sorry for them, quite sorry, but the suspicion, fear and dislike of the automatons simply weighed too much on his heart for the pity to make itself known.

**_11:59 p.m._**

The watchman strolled into his miniature office to find everything as how he left it the previous night. With a huff he slumped into the flimsy swivel chair and reached out for the tablet. He spent little time in making himself comfortable, leaning into the chair as he propped his feet onto the face of the desk. He crossed his legs as he did so while turning on the tablet. It produced a sharp click as the screen flickered to life, showing the one icon again. He clicked on it and waited for it to process the app yet again, taking a glance at the phone to see a blinking red light; indicating another message was recorded. Rather curious as to the contents of said message, the brunette set aside the tablet and stretched out his hand to click the button.

"_Uhh, Hello? Hello? Uh, well, if you're hearing this and you made it to day two, uh, congrats! I-I won't talk quite as long this time since Freddy and his friends tend to become more active as the week progresses. Uhh, it might be a good idea to peek at those cameras while I talk just to make sure everyone's in their proper place. You know..._"

While the guy on the phone spoke, Mike picked up a change in the mannerisms from which the phone guy had spoke before to now. He was no longer monotone, he was now timid, nervous, more frightened sounding. It was like he was expecting something to happen at any moment, anticipating the inevitable while trying to prolong it as well. The brunette felt a pang of guilt, of empathy sweep over his body, soul and mind; feeling a sort of connection between the prior night guard and himself. But, what was he to do? If he was hired, then that meant the night guard speaking to him now was long gone by now, there was no way for communication between he and Mike personally, face-to-face.

Even if I could speak with the guy, what would I possibly say to him? There is nothing beyond the work events I'd be capable of discussing with the man, so why even bother? These were a few thoughts that swirled, angrily around the contents of his mind. With a sigh he sat the tablet back onto the table for a moment, then rubbed his eyes in frustration before picking the now loaded tablet up.

"_Uh... Interestingly enough, Freddy himself doesn't come off stage very often. I heard he becomes a lot more active in the dark though, so, hey, I guess that's one more reason not to run out of power, right? I-I also want to emphasize the importance of using your door lights. There are blind spots in your camera views, and those blind spots happen to be right outside of your doors. So if-if you can't find something, or someone, on your cameras, be sure to check the door lights. Uh, you might only have a few seconds to react... Uh, not that you would be in any danger, of course. I'm not implying that. Also, check on the curtain in Pirate Cove from time to time. The character in there seems unique in that he becomes more active if the cameras remain off for long periods of time. I guess he doesn't like being watched. I don't know. Anyway, I'm sure you have everything under control! Uh, talk to you soon._"

**_12:20 a.m._**

In the fraction of a second, the sharp click of the phone went off and with it the flashing red light. Mike then focused on the tablet's screen; the black and light blue illuminated screen, before quickly tapping the stage's camera icon. Quite instantly the brunette's breathing hitched, heart skipped a beat and mind went blank once he saw the visual feed from the camera. What he saw was something he couldn't quite believe, but his eyes did not lie. Bonnie and Chica, both animatronics, _gone_.

* * *

><p><strong><span><em>12:04 a.m.<em>  
><strong>

Bonnie was the first to leave, she had an agenda this day; for the endoskeleton was still breaking the rules. Freddy had told both her and Chica that they could enact the punishment of not following the rules on the endoskeleton this night. Why don't the machines here follow the rules, she pondered; making her way off the stage. Her hands felt sore from holding that guitar of hers for the entire day, so she had left it on the stage when she departed. Repetitiously she wrung her hands together, trying to massage the sore skin that was always deathly cold and quite hard. Being the curious one she was, she had asked Freddy why her hands, her skin in general just felt so hard, so cold. He simply answered her by saying that they were naturally cold and hard skinned, that it came with being human. She was satisfied with the answer and never once inquired the question again.

The waiter dressed guitarist strode down the dark, empty isles created by the tightly spaced tables. These tables had a whitewash cloth draped on top of their wooden facade with cone shaped, balloon patterned party hats lined up in two rows going down from end to end on both side edges of each table. These cone shaped hats interested Bonnie to no end, because no matter how many times she saw them or saw people put them on, she could never understand how they remained on their heads. Once again she found her childish curiosity getting the better of her, making her approach one of the tables, pick up a hat, and start fidgeting with it.

A sharp, high pitched click resonated very close by, just several feet away from whence Bonnie stood. She craned her head around to the source of the click and spotted a "camera"; as Freddy called them. It had a small red light illuminating the darkness near the part the jutted out all while oscillating back and forth slowly. This sudden occurrence of movement caused Bonnie to lock up - pun intended - and stare off in a direction away from the camera. Freddy had once told the two that whenever a camera came on to immediately stop moving and stare away from the camera, for if it spotted them moving or looking at them they'd lose their job at the pizzeria.

Bonnie was quite curious indeed, but she feared losing the only thing she knew and was good at; other than playing her guitar. So there she stood, frozen, like a static machine staring into the darkness straight ahead.

* * *

><p><span><em><strong>12:11 a.m.<strong>_

Chica watched Bonnie meander down from the stage and begin trekking to where the rule-breaking endoskeleton resided. In her heart she wanted to run right off the stage and join her best friend, but her stomach had other plans. When the loud, thunderous rumble from her thin stomach; one that shouldn't have belonged to one so petite, so to did the absolute command to dash for the kitchen shattered the walls of her mind. In the blink of an eye she leaped off the stage and made a breakneck pace. For an animatronic, her movements were quite fluent; mimicking that of a real human, as she ran through the open doors of the kitchen. It was pitch black, but it did not matter for the machine, for her and her friends eyes were specially designed to see in the dark. It was there that she spent a good nine minutes scouring the entire kitchen for something, anything to eat. She needed to eat, she had to, she was practically wasting away to nothing at this point.

As if sent by a divine force from above, she finally spotted something. On one of the counters was an ajar pizza box with a complete pie of pizza smack-dab in the center of the somewhat stained box. The animatronic didn't hesitate to fling the lid up, grab a slice and stuff it down her mouth; making lippy-smacking sounds while devouring it in large bites. Not a pause was taken before the next slice followed the first, then the next, then the next, and the next, etc. until every last slice had been crammed inside of the robot's near bottomless stomach. She shuttered in ecstasy as her monstrous belly was full, the ache gone, and mind back to normal once again. She proceeded to quickly lick her lips clean from the pizza grease, then did the same to the tips of her fingers.

With her belly full, Chica deemed it time to depart and wander around the building; not to worried over the endoskeleton guy. She was more interested in the prospect of entertaining herself; despite Freddy's warnings. Stupid Freddy, she thought, always thinking he knows best! Well guess what Freddy, you don't always know best, making us stand around like statues, making us stiffer than heck all night yesterday! Folding her arms and making a rather peeved mien, she somewhat stomped around the building for a few minutes before wandering near the entrance to the eastern hallway. It was there that she saw one of those new camera things that Freddy had been warning her and Bonnie about. She did have enough common sense and obedience to follow through with his instructions on what to do if a camera looked at them, but at the same time, she still rebelled. While she locked up - again, pun intended - and froze whilst under the scrutinizing gaze of the camera, the robot didn't refrain from staring at it from the corner of her eyes. Her thinking was-she was so far away from the camera thing, so it wouldn't hurt anyone if she looked at it; partially, from such a great distance.

* * *

><p><strong><span><em>12:30 a.m.<em>**

This is crazy, he thought in a panic, how can these things move?!

He had swapped from the stage camera to the closet camera, then the pirate cove camera, then the bathroom, and finally to the party room. Until the final camera he had been feverishly scouring for the animatronic named "Bonnie"; ending up on the party room camera that showed her new position. There she stood, in the middle of two white cloth covered party tables; in the isle they created. The machine was missing her guitar and she was standing as still as a rock, looking straight ahead into the darkness just like her default position on top of the stage. There she idly stood, completely motionless, expressionless, rather creepy as well. For a moment, he felt fine, reassured, but then he recalled that Bonnie hadn't been the only animatronic that was missing. Chica was missing as well.

Once again he began a flurry of clicks along the screen of his tablet, checking each camera until he came to the one positioned closest to the western hall entrance. Once the video feed popped up, his blood ran ice cold. There the animatronic stood, as idle as Bonnie but with her piercing, neon eyes partially glanced over at the camera that remained staring at one spot. The faint lights from the stage; which were left on after closing for some odd reason, made her body to nothing more than a silhouette against a near white backdrop. The appearance made the security guard shutter in fright. But, despite the creepy feelings he got from the two animatronics with their near lifeless posture and stance, he felt a lot safer knowing where each one was in relation to himself.

He took in a breath, a shaky and uneasy breath of fresh air. He could physically feel his muscles, tendons, everything in his body begin to relax, uncoil themselves and release the winding tension in each strand of muscle and skin. Unknowingly he had been completely locked up; like the animatronics, and had practically pushed himself into the very fabric of the chair. He relaxed like this for several minutes; almost nearing ten whole minutes, before he felt himself dozing off to a land of slumber. This was dangerous and he knew it, yet he was so tired; being paranoid and as tense as a spring was quite tiring. But, that's when he saw the light above him flicker, two seconds was how long the flickering lasted, two seconds, before everything went back to normal. However, when the lights ceased their brief strobe effect, a serious of rustles and echoed, metallic steps bounced off the walls of the halls and into his office.

Instantly his eyes flew wide open, pupils shrunken from a new instilled fear. This flickering had made him thought, ponder, mull over the words of the Phone Guy; as Mike decided to call him from the lack of name given, for as brief a moment as the flickering had lasted. Something about the forth animatronic, something about how he should keep an eye on the thing every now and then. He hadn't even once looked at the Pirate's Cove camera.

In a panicked flurry his hands scrambled to grab the tablet and in the same panicked state violently rammed his finger onto the square that represented Pirate's Cove's camera. To his relief, he saw nothing; at first, but soon he saw, he saw what he wished he had never saw once he did spot it. It was small, but quite noticeable from the moon light that glinted off of it, metal, a thin thing of metal. More specifically, the end of a metal _hook _that had partially parted the curtains. This metal hook made his heart stop for a moment as he nearly swallowed his uvula with a dry mouth. A fear induced sweat began trickling from his forehead and clammy hands, the brunette felt the air in his room drop in temperature quite drastically as goosebumps along his body formed.

The watchman was so caught up in his fear that he failed to notice the breathing, the heavy breathing that came from his left door. But he did take notice, eventually, and when he did he couldn't bring himself to look at it. He cautiously wheeled the chair back with a few strokes of his legs, then he swiveled around-partially-to face the darkness lying outside the right door way. This darkness seemed more alive when he looked upon it now, it appeared to move, swirl, swim around in its own deepness, in the vast abyss that it was. Slowly then, he leaned forwards and hesitantly touched and pressed his fingers against the cold, "lights" button. The florescent light lit up with a flicker and banished the evil abyss away with a bright illumination. In that instant the face of Bonnie with a devious smirk was also lit up by the florescent radiance.

Mike's breathing, heart beat, thoughts, everything simply stopped. It even seemed like time drew to a stand still upon the illumination of the door and Bonnie's body. In the fraction of a second Mike blinked, and in that time span he had brought his hand around and slammed his hand-open palmed-onto the door button. The animatronic heard the familiar sound of gears churning and jumped back in time to avoid the guillotine-like door that hit the floor with a catastrophic thunk. The brunette's heart thumped loud in his ears, a lump formed in the back of his dry throat as he felt like spilling the contents that filled his stomach. His cold sweat had worsened and his entire body felt cold and clammy, it took every ounce of will to keep from fainting.

This is what he meant... they are trying to get to me... they can move!

His thoughts were wild as he remained in the same spot he had before the door slammed shut. He dared not breathe let alone move, so there he sat in tense silence for what seemed like hours. After many minutes passed, he finally decided, the watchman gulped as he reached for the light button once more. The brunette's body hesitated, almost defying the command of its all-controlling mind, but gave in to the commands and pressed the dreadful thing. Once more did the lights flicker on, but the man refused to open the door, so out the window he gazed to try and spot the bunny. To his joy he saw neither hide nor shadow of the entity and felt it safe to open the door; for it had started to devour his power supplies. Upon the opening of the door, Mike cringed and backed the chair up to the desk; still in fear from the encounter, but soon calmed his nerves and turned to face the desk yet again.

He looked at the time wearily, seeing that the whole encounter managed to kill twenty-five minutes; mostly from him simply sitting in that one spot fearfully. Then he looked to the tablet and gauged the power that remained, a total of 79%, he wondered if that would be enough to keep him alive for the night.

Only time will tell... I guess...

* * *

><p>The night whittled away like it was caught in a web, a sticky cobweb set by a treacherous arachnid who never ate her prey, but simply toyed with them for a while before setting them free. This is what it felt like to the night guard, hours of stress, paranoia and fear; pure unadulterated fear. Every so often the bunny would come to play, but would have the door shut on her, occasionally the chickenduck girl would come to say hello, tap on the glass, but Mike always had the door closed by the time of the first tap. At the end of the night, he had survived with only 25% power left, and when the alarm sounded, he hightailed it out of the building, into his car and sped all the way home. He didn't think much of that night, at least as best as he could, as he focused on other things. Sleep, however, was a rough one to grasp and stay in with the dreams that always molded into horrific nightmares of the pizzeria. What had he gotten himself into?


	3. Chapter III: The Night of Annoyance

**Author's Note: Remember what I said in the first chapter's author's note? Yeah, well f*ck that. I've got an entirely new plan for this that no one will see coming! Muhahaha!**

* * *

><p>The realm between awake and asleep was a painful experience for Mike Schmidt. His dreams, of which were scarce, had quickly turned from unsettling nightmares to the horrid, heart-pounding state of night terrors. It was a cycle without end, for in each terror he would either run out of power or slip up in his attempt to close a door and as a result was brought to and killed in the way the guy over the phone said, then it'd cycle back to when he entered the Pizzeria. No matter what he did in the terror, he could never change the outcome. If he reacted a second before the animatronic was at his door, something like him falling out of chair would occur. If he tried to hide himself in a nook or cranny of either his office or somewhere else in the building, that infernal Pirate would always find him. Mike couldn't even leave or just not enter the building, for if he tried he'd be met with each animatronic surrounding him. Rinse and repeat, rinse and repeat, rinse and-<em>smack!<em>

In his night terror, in the woken world, Mike had unconsciously been flailing both his arms and legs in a frantic state. The man's sheets ruffled and flapped against his struggles, itself confused as to the flurry of panicked movement. Finally fed up with it, the blanket and sheets of his bed jerked out from their tightly tucked sides and no longer restrained the unconscious body from moving. Inch by inch the unconscious form gyrated close to the edge of the bed, where the wooden frame reached up to cover the mattress in an upturned skirt. The body continued this path until, finally, his arm lurched up in a flail and slammed its wrist back down onto the wooden skirt.

A surge of pain coursed up his arm and through the shoulder before spreading out to affect the entire body. The man's nerves screeched in agony and promptly began pinging/flooding the section of the brain that perceived pain with split-second electrical pulses. His brain-currently wrought with fear-perceived this physical pain as the floating feather that landed and tipped the tittering consciousness over to the side of the waking world. With a sudden start, Mike jolted up through the twisted cornucopia of blanket and sheets with a cold sweat trickling down his brow as his throbbing, sore wrist huddled to his chest to be nurtured like a mother nursing her young. His eyes closed shut like vices and his legs bent inward and retracted at odd, uncomfortable angels. His empty hand could only find way to paw at its pained sister in a vain attempt to ease the burning soreness.

"Ah! Ah, what the fuck?!" he hissed through gritted teeth.

For a few moments, the man merely sat there with his left wrist hugged to his pecks and face scrunched up from the surprise and pain. After those few, brief moments of tense silence, the pain staled to nothing more than a small burning that lingered with a stubborn throb of the skin as the wrist partially swelled, white pigment shifting to a light scarlet. Once the pain "subsided" and he no longer felt the primitive need to baby his pained appendage, Mike found that his eyelids no longer kept a firm grasp of the closed position they had been for the entire time. He parted his eyes and peered into the darkness of the room; he was not comfortable with very dark places and this was definitely darker than his liking. The only real sources of illumination was the faint red iridescent numbers of the LSD bedside clock-which read 2:30 pm-and the rays of sunshine that dared creep past the curtain closed windows. It took a moment, but eventually the guard's eyes adjusted to the darkness just enough to make out shadowy outlines of that which filled the apartment room.

"Mreooow." crowed the droll Toyger.

Mike watched the sleek figure in the dark skulk to his bed, springing up and darting for him. He then felt the familiar sensation of soft, short fur rubbing against his bare skin. The man let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding in. His muscles relaxed from the tension he hadn't even registered. The night terrors had really taken a toll on him in their few short moments. The place he called home felt foreign without the lights on, it felt as if something was lurking about in the shadows, just outside his field of view. It was like something watched him with hollow eyes, like something was waiting for the moment he'd slip up and be vulnerable. It was a feeling that made Mike's hair stand on end with a chill playing his spine like a xylophone.

* * *

><p><span><em><strong>11:05 pm<strong>_

The employees hurried up their finally duties, trying their hardest to finish up before "that" time. They pushed in chairs, replaced party-hats, mopped the floor, cleaned the kitchen, dusted the animatronics, not to mention doing the daily maintenance check over all the electronics of the building. Such odd objects the security system, so new and fresh. The more die-hard veterans of the building remembered the past like it was yesterday, and found their anger displacing itself on the newfangled security systems. But even so, they all simply wished to leave before They woke up at That time. Then, something rather unexpected happened, the front door opened.

The employees' mind-numbing tasks halted as each one craned their heads to the entrance hall. Who could possible could be entering the place far after closing? Were they mad? These questions and more were left unanswered for a moment more before, finally, being answered. It was the security guard, dressed in a blue uniform with a golden badge pinned to his right breast and a hat plopped on top of his head. His features looked to be sagging, whether it be from the stress of That time or just life was unclear.

The group that had "showed" the new guard around the building the first night were the ones to take hold of the confused look. Surely he wasn't here, early, was he? Who in their right mind would come earlier than they had to to this place? It rather irked Jamie.

"What's **he** doing here!?" she quietly chided in a way that sounded like it was one of her friends' fault.

"How the heck should I know?!" chided Johnson in response.

"Guys, please don't fight," chimed in Marie. "you said you'd stop..."

Clyde took no part in his tiresome friend's daily squabble, merely let his dear Marie cling to his arm for support while keeping his vision trained on the night watchman. The silent observer took note that the color of the man's uniform was blue, not purple. Yet, he still had the golden badge that every guard before him had.

So, they figured out one problem... but have yet to solve the other... can't wait to see how long till _he _comes out.

A mischievous smirk played his lips like a fiddle, drawing the attention and quieting his three friends. Seldom did he ever make an expression other than neutral, let alone a smirk. What had gotten into him all of a sudden, they wondered.

* * *

><p><span><strong><em>11: 45 pm<em>**

Mike simply sat there-the table closest to the animatronics-and stared up at the machines. The more and more he viewed them the more and more he swore that their eyes stared back into his. Except, the meaning behind the two stares were polar opposites. One of fear and slight annoyance, the other being of domination and enraged. Their neon eyes were still striking, still glowing, still hating, still watching. A shiver ran up his spine, leaving only burning itches and straightened hair in its wake.

_I swear to god one of them just blinked..._

* * *

><p><em><span><strong>11:58 pm<strong>_

The employees of the establishment departed a little while ago. The lights remained on, their buzzing being the sole auditory aspect in the building. Eventually, after another moment wasted staring at the machines, Mike finally found the nerve to stand on shaky legs and march himself to the office that'd act as his castle for the night. He just prayed to god that the walls would hold up against another assault.

He fell back into the embrace of his chair; the wheels squealing as they zoomed in the corresponding direction. The watchman let out a huff as his slumped posture leaned him into the chair lethargically. He did expend a bit of energy to press the glowing red button on the phone. He'd listen to it without distractions this night.

''_Hello, hello? Hey you're doing great! Most people don't last this long. I mean, you know, they usually move on to other things by now. I'm not implying that they died. Th-th-that's not what I meant. Uh, anyway I better not take up too much of your time. Things start getting real tonight._" he informed.

Good. Cause I'm gonna make them squirm, or at least realize I'm not gonna be bullied by them.

_Uh... Hey, listen, I had an idea: if you happen to get caught and want to avoid getting stuffed into a Freddy suit, uhh, try playing dead! You know, go limp. Then there's a chance that, uh, maybe they'll think that you're an empty costume instead. Then again if they think you're an empty costume, they might try to... stuff a metal skeleton into you. I wonder how that would work. Yeah, never mind, scratch that. It's best just not to get caught. __Um... Ok, I'll leave you to it. See you on the flip side... oh! Before I go, I should inform you that I took the privilege of purchasing and modifying a cattle prod and left it in the top drawer of the table in the office. You probably won't ever need to use it, but just in case one of the animatronics starts going haywire and you can't shut the door in time feel free to use the thing to reset the machine. Just... don't keep it on them for too long, could fry their chips or somethin'. Alright, see you on the flip side._"

Mike's eyes stared off into space, a glassy look over them, as he didn't really pay attention to the entirety of his message. It didn't sound overly helpful like the last two nights were. But, this thought process was rudely anchored back to reality by a loud chime that reverberated the entire building. When the sound blared against both eardrums, the guard righted his posture and grasped the tablet. The man's face had shifted to an expression dripping with determination.

"Alright ya mechanized fucks... game on!" he stated, quietly challenging the robots.

* * *

><p><span><strong><em>Night Three at Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria<br>12:_****_01:07__ am  
>Power: 100%<em>**

Mike went to work and tapped the camera icon closest to the stage, the video feed popped up and the audio droned through the tablet's speakers. The video feed projected the image of the three animatronics; however, each head of the machines were turned to face the camera. The mien etched into their plastic face was one of malicious intent, blood lust as clear as day. Yet, there was also a hint of sorrow and a sort of "We're sorry". However, Mike wasn't buying into their, creepy, charade. He could see through them as if they were made of glass. He'd never let them into his office, to be frank, he rather enjoyed living. A minute passed, nothing.

Another minute passed, nothing still. In the two minutes that passed Mike got himself tightly nestled into a quick, but sweet routine. Every few seconds he'd tap each camera and took a moment to look at it before moving to the next icon. Then he'd go to the Pirate's Cove Camera, which he always saved for last, and spend at least three seconds to analyze everything, down to the smallest detail, that was the same and that changed. Finally, he'd swap back to the main camera of the stage and stayed on it until the next sweep of the cameras was called for. Yet another minute passed.

Hell, if I had known they'd just leave me alone like this... I wouldn't be takin' it s-

Suddenly there was a difference in the Pirate's Cove camera. The curtain was cast aside and halfway out was "Foxy", as the guy on the phone called him. He was shaggy, gruff looking; the appearance resembling the look of a real pirate. He was just a few inches shorter than Freddy by the looks of it and dressed much more intimidating than the other three put together. He wore the outfit of a pirate captain: a leather jacket with gold and iron trimmings above a crimson and white stripped shirt, a pair of leather trousers with a leather and iron belt and the same kind of trimmings, large boots with iron buckles and a metal tip. On his right eye was a black eye patch and his left hand was a simple metal hook. His skin was as fair as a pirate could be and his hair was a cornucopia of tangled locks of orangish crimson hair with patches of matching dried blood matting and clumping locks of hair together. This animatronic was not as well kept as the other ones, however. There were patches in the plastic skin that were torn off, burned off, or just generally melted and revealed the metal skeleton beneath it. Even the clothing it wore were tattered, torn, just worn down from years of neglect. In fact, the plastic skin and clothing were so worn down, that from the thigh down on the right leg, the entire metal skeleton could be seen. Another quirky thing about this animatronic was that its jaw seemed loose, like the hinges were damaged. This defect allowed the jagged rows of dagger-like teeth that he had.

What monster would make **THAT** a thing to entertain kids?!

Foxy was staring into the camera, a thousand yard stare filled with blood lust and hatred. It had a knowing look, as it hovered its hook precariously close to its face. The sheer look it gave caused a chill to vibrate up the entirety of Mike's spine.

"You wanna piece 'o me? Well, come'n get't bitch." Mike scoffed cockily.

* * *

><p><span><em><strong>12:05 am<br>Power: 98%**_

Foxy shifted about, paced, walked up and down the long-since abandoned Pirate's Cove. He was never allowed to move anymore, never, not since _that _horrid day occurred. He hadn't meant to do what he did or, rather, he did, but just not like that. The animatronic had not control over himself in that instance, when he saw the purple clothed, golden badge wearing landlubber who had hurt him and his friends so long ago. For that, the horrible adults punished him for it. Punished him for trying to protect someone whom needed protection. It was enough to make his blood heat up to a rolling broil.

_Click!_

The familiar sound of an infernal camera being clicked on perforated his ears. The pirate captain scowled in reminiscence of the sound, a sound that has echoed throughout the entire building for many, many years. The whirring of the metal gears and servos of the foolish machine's turning and pivoting in a manner most irksome. While Foxy felt lonely almost all the time now, he still rather despised being watched, especially if it's by one of those that wear a gold star. The old, aged animatronic felt his teeth clench and grind against each other in a way that caused sparks to come from grinding metal. The Ole pirate felt both relaxed and on edge, angered yet calm; blood lustful and sorrowful. But before Foxy could really react, the camera switched off just as quickly as it had switched on. This went on for several minutes, slowly aggravating the pirate captain to the point of unfurling his Cove's curtains and stepping out. When he did this, the camera clicked on and spotted him. The smell of delicious and guilt-tripping fear flowed into him like an uncontrolled stream. Foxy couldn't stop himself from gawking into the machine with both blood lust and hatred, sorrow and a sort of apologetic feeling lacing the two together at the seams.

* * *

><p><span><strong><em>12:06:35 am<br>Power: 97%_**

Bonnie and Chica looked to each other when the camera clicked off for the hundredth time. The whirring and clicking from the camera was quite annoying, irksome really. It was enough to hurt their mechanical animal ears, something that they hadn't though possible before. When they got the chance, when the camera went offline for the thousandth time, the duo sprung into action. Chica dashed off the stage and scurried into the kitchen, her stomach taking the reins of her body once again while Bonnie stepped off the stage and began striding towards the western entrance hall.

The sounds of metallic footsteps clicking against the tiled floor made the waiter dressed woman look over her shoulder every so often. It was odd that her leather shoes produced such a metallic sound. Not to mention that, whenever she turned or twisted a part of her body, an irksome whirring or squealing sound would perforate the air localized around her. Whenever she inquired Freddy of it, he always said the same thing: "It's just the cameras." Normally she would've believed him whole heartily, except the sound persisted even when the cameras weren't on.

The bunny eared animatronic heaved a heavy sigh as she took a step into the western hall entrance.

_Click!_

On the camera went and rigid went the bunny. The light from behind her shrouded the front of her body while casting an imposing shadow down the length of the hall. Said shadow was stretched out, demonized, cast out in such a way that it made the owner of said shadow appear to be a vicious monster. She couldn't help but stare into the camera with a mien mirroring the one she had when the camera first spotted her and her friends on the stage.

**_12:06:45_**

Inside the kitchen, pots and pans were clattered to the black and white checkered floor with a metallic clanging. The cabinets flung open and hit both wood and brick surfaces alike with tremendous force. Chica, perpetrator of the flinging, scoured the entire room once more for the food that her stomach rived in agony for in an insatiable craving.

Anything will do at this point, just give me food!

A sharp click could be heard from within the darkness of the kitchen, a pitch blackness that deprived all who entered of sight. This was a signal for Chica to cease movement, to stand as still as a rock and do nothing until the bleep of the camera swapping was heard. But, her stomach would have none of it. Food was demanded and food would be got. In a fury, Chica grabbed a rather large skillet and chucked it across the room, sending it into the wall just below the camera. If the camera had any video feed and if there wasn't such a darkness cast over the room, the one behind said machine would've seen the animatronic's desperation for sustenance. Not to mention her rather enraged visage. However, luck would have it that a half eaten pizza still in the box was set aside on the kitchen counter like it was an offering to the animatronic. Chica ate the remains of said pizza without hesitation, then left the darkened room to explore the establishment.

The guard guy can wait a moment, I wanna explore a bit first.

* * *

><p><span><em><strong>12:54:55 p.m.<br>Power: 80%**_

Things had gotten lively quite quickly after Foxy's sudden desire to make an appearance. Bonnie had gotten rather frisky, deciding to pop in and out of the door's field of view several times before getting bored and moving on to places like the supply closet and the area with the spare robot parts. Chica had been tamed for a while, until the second time she entered the kitchen and presumably failed to find what she was looking for. Now, Chica would loom haphazardly in front of the camera just outside the eastern door's field of view with a mien of unadulterated rage stuck to her face like a poster. The way the metal eyes and brow, even the cheeks and mouth contorted and scrunched up was impossible for a robot to preform. The way her nose wrinkled in anger, the way her eyes would twinkle with misplaced rage when the light hit them just right, the way her red tipped bangs parted and pointed opposite of the other half. It was oddly alluring.

Mike promptly slapped himself, "Gah! What're you doin' Mike Schmidt?! Keep your head in the game or else ya gunna..."

The soft tapping of metallic footsteps resonated the air that sashayed in from the eastern hall entrance. With wide eyes, Mike wastes no time in turning the lights on and goes straight for the door button. It slides down with a heavy thunk, a thunk that echoed the building's universal sign of salvation for the one whom closed it. Mike, still standing, keeps the palm of his hand crushing the button while the opposite hand keeps the tablet in its clutches. His eyes keeps the contraction in its muscles active so the sharp look of victory remained present. For a moment, he chanced a look at the animatronic that so pitifully failed through the glass, only to be met by the unforgiving view of darkness. Once again the watchmen's eyes relocated to a new target, this time being the button that controlled the lights. For a split second he mulled over the prospect of turning the lights on to rub his victory in the robot's face, but quickly used common sense to shoot said idea down.

With a huff, the night guard took a seat on the swivel chair and proceeded to lean into the fabric. The resulting weight that pressed against the weary chair caused it to squeeze out a high-pitched groan. Said groan actually caused Mike to jump, caused him to pull the tablet up to his face and make the same sweep of the cameras he had gotten so used at the beginning of the night. What he found was that Bonnie was currently making herself busy in the party room, what she was doing however was a mystery with Bonnie's back turned to face the camera and such. The man thought that everything was going to be fine and dandy despite the fact he hadn't checked the cameras for a good minute and thirty seconds, until he clicked on the Stage's camera. The one animatronic that had yet to move was _missing__. _Mike had been warned by the phone guy that Freddy himself wasn't very active, but when he was he was quite violent. When he found that Freddy was out of position, a laugh echoed throughout the building while simultaneously rattling Mike's very soul. This laugh was deep and sinister, like someone took the voice of a child, lowered the pitch, demonized it, and violently replaced its innocence with a malicious desire for vengeance.

Isn't it enough tha' Bonnie and Chica are out for blood! Now **_Freddy_** wants to end my life as well? Can't I catch'a break today?!

As if to tell him, "No, you cannot catch a break", life just so happened to have one last thing in store for the annoyed/frightened guard. Before he went on the rapid clicking spree in an attempt to locate Freddy, Mike foolishly/wisely check on the Pirate's Cove camera. To his utter horror the watchmen saw that Foxy had, once again, moved. This time only his head showed, for the rest of his body was out of the camera's range. Foxy's eyes were no longer the crimson hue they had once been. In fact, there appeared to be no eyeball in either socket at all. What was in each socket was a single white, smoldering ember the size of a needle's eye. These eyes stared into the camera as the smile of a mad man adorned his darkened face, one teaming with rage and blood lust. The most unsettling thing was that the smoldering white embers looked dead and yet alive, there yet not there, feeling yet unfeeling, all just like the eyes of a child's corpse.

The gaze of Foxy's contradicting eyes was hypnotizing, as transfixing as the sight of food after going a whole week without food. Inside it was the sort of stare a newly recruited soldier would have etched into his very eyes, a thousand yard stare looking out onto a vast landscape dyed crimson with fresh human fertilizer strewn about haphazardly. It was inside this gaze that he saw something, something tucked away just below the smoldering center. This something was just out of reach of his eyes' line of sight. What's more the harder he tried to focus on said something, the more it inched away like the tease it was. However, the more he tried to home in on the speck resulted in the beginning and worsening of a splitting headache. This headache could only have been compared to letting a trash compactor have its way with a ripe melon about to burst. In his ears rang an incessant, high-pitched whistle with the garbled static of white noise as its background. Eventually Mike was forced to tear his transfixed eyes from the tablet's image.

"W... What the hell is going... going on here...?" he stammered in a quaver

* * *

><p><span><strong><em>3:41:56 a.m.<br>Power: 68%_**

The next several hours were a living hell for the poor night watchman. Not only did Bonnie and Chica increase the frequency of their "visits", but now Freddy and the rather irksome Foxy had thrown themselves into the fray. If it wasn't Chica tapping on the glass, then it was Freddy maliciously draining the power by dogging him at the door. If it wasn't Bonnie trying to poke her bunny eared head through the door, then it was the blasted pirate sprinting down the hall to pound on a door that always shut at the last second. The power wasn't the only thing whittling down bit by bit, Mike's patience joined in the "fun". Each frantic click, each panicked scramble for the tablet, each metallic slam of the military grade door(s) slowly worked to change the guard's fear to anger.

Once again the door slammed into the tiled floor with an echoing thunk. It had been Bonnie this time, or was it Chica? The watchman didn't really check anymore, he simply rolled over to press the door controls whenever he picked up the subtle hint(s) of an animatronic's presence. The fear he once harbored for the animatronics had shifted to anger, then to boredom as the reactions to the robots' actions morphed into a tedious routine. Such a tedious routine was possible to have from his constant observation of the four machines. He had predicting the thing's movement patterns and habits down to a science.

The leader of the bunch was possibly the most aggressive, second only to Foxy. However, it appeared that the robot preferred teasing and baiting his pray as to give his lackeys a chance to take advantage of the side said pray was less focused on. While being the most aggressive of the animatronics, Freddy himself rarely ever payed a visit to ole Mike-y. It made the watchmen rather sad knowing that Freddy never wanted to come and play.

Bonnie, the playboy bunny, was the third most aggressive out of the four. Her tactics consisted of dogging the western hall's door exclusively without mercy, normally waiting at the door or staring through the window for a ten or twenty seconds before getting bored and wandering to somewhere more exciting. Whenever she wasn't staking out the door, Bonnie would almost always be found in places with objects that could be fiddled with.

Chica was, possibly, the hardest of the four to understand. Her aggression levels would constantly shift depending on the state of mind she was in. When the robot was passive, she'd be sauntering through every place except the eastern hall. However, she'd attack his door and power supply relentlessly when aggressive. At first glance the state her mind resided in was at random, but upon closer inspection Mike found that every time after the first trip to the kitchen Chica was constantly aggressive. It made him stop to ponder the possibility of there not being something in said kitchen that the female animatronic desperately wanted. If that was the case, he'd definitely have to think of a way to provide a great enough supply for said thing(s) as to prevent such continued hostilities. If Mike knew no better, he would've guessed that the animatronic was starving from the way she would retreat into the kitchen.

Then the last, but certainly not least, was Foxy. Out of every animatronic in the building, Foxy was by far the most aggressive at all times. While he did have a sort of grace period before and right after returning to his cove, Foxy still had the most forward plan of attack. This grace period seemed to last from the moment he grew disinterested with the door to two seconds after returning to the curtain concealed cove. After the grace period ended, Foxy begins getting more and more agitated the more the camera is left off on him. He'll continue to get agitated until he is outside the camera's field of view, in which case he starts a mad dash for the one operating the security cameras. An odd thing about Foxy's departure was that the sign that read, "Sorry! Out of Order" changed to "It's Me!" in the sloppy handwriting of a second grader. But as quickly as it would appear, it would just as quickly disappear.

Mike sighed, brow furrowed and expression annoyed.

"This went from frightening to mind numbingly annoying..." he complained with a bored voice.

Mike clicked the lights button of the left door and saw nothing lurking in the darkness out of his office's safety. With droll assurance, the watchman relieved the door and lights of power and turned back to his tablet. Nothing was out of the ordinary on the stage camera, the camera he had decided would be the default camera to be on. Something unexpected did happen, however. The sound of his stomach growling was a surprising thing to experience at this specific job, it actually managed to stir a jump out of the man. Taking a moment to register what just happened, Mike promptly slumped into the wheel chair that pitifully held his weight with his free hand resting on his stomach and occupied hand hanging limply at his side.

"Ugh... why do I gotta be hungr' now of all times?!" he shouted to no one in particular.

* * *

><p><span><em><strong>5:58:58<br>Power: 7%**_

Mike was now frantic, enraged, fearful, everything. There was but a mere minute left before he was home free, but now the animatronics were dogging him without rest. Chica no longer moved from her spot outside the window of the eastern hall and Bonnie refused to bring her stakeout of the western door to a close. What made it worse was that Foxy had joined in Bonnie's fun, only he repeatedly banged and ran his hook and hand on the metal of said door. There was but a minute left before the night was over and he was home free, but with both doors closed and the constant need to check if they were gone was rapidly eating at his meager power supply. Now that he was practically backed into a corner, the thought he had been desperately keeping at bay finally made it to the forefront of his mind. A thought that had been trying to make itself known since the the last day at the establishment. A thought that caused a cold sweat to trickle down his forehead and wet clammy hands.

I'm gonna die here...

There was a mere thirty-five seconds left and he was down to four percent power. Suddenly there was a loud bang on both windows, causing Mike to reel back, spin around, and slammed the left side of his chair and body against the back wall. The watchman let out a cry of anguish accompanied by a string of swear words to proclaim the sheer intensity of pain he felt. After the sharp, burning anguish subsided to a mere throbbing annoyance the night guard swiveled the chair right around to glare at the darkened windows. There was less than fifteen seconds to go, but only two percent power remained. Mike didn't need to turn on the lights to know that the accursed animatronics were the ones to hit the windows, that's what enraged him. That was also the point in which the security guard had something inside finally snap after being bent for as long as it had.

With a metallic smack silencing all other noise-Mike being the one whom caused it-the tablet was slammed onto the metallic table pinned to the front wall. The sole occupant of the room shot off his chair; as a result, forcing the feeble swivel chair to fly back into the back wall. On the individuals face was a mien of seething aggravation intermingled with unbridled rage. This man could no longer hold back the outrage generated from the machine's irksome actions. So whilst in the heat of the moment, the guard leveled his left and right hands to the corresponding window before curling his thumbs, index, pinkie, and pointer fingers. Five seconds remained, but only one percent of power was left.

"I'm done with your shit ya damn animatronics! Ya hear me! NO MORE MISTER NICE GUY!" he hollered in the most angered, hostile voice he could muster.

These threats mimicked the hidden truth of hollow, meaningless threats. Even if the threats had been filled with purposeful zeal, what could the man have done to hurt the robots? He couldn't hit them with physical attacks for fear of hurting himself more than anything else, nor could he find any real weapons carelessly forgotten in the confines of the establishment. Except, there was _one_ weapon left to him for the sole purpose of protecting himself. Mike's eyes slunk down to rest on the top drawer of the metal desk/table. In it supposedly was an electric cattle prod modified by the last watchman to "reset" the machines. That would be the thing that saved him, if all else failed, then that was what would keep him alive. Then the alarm echoed throughout the building for several seconds before cutting out.

Everything went dead quiet upon the bell's chime. It was like the building was holding its breath in anticipation for what its murderous occupants would do. They weren't just simple animatronics, after all. Each had a personality and a way of going about things, but they still had that pesky fail-safe hardwired into their hollow, metal vassals. In the end, they begrudgingly obeyed the program and proceeded to return to their default positions. This made Mike happy, so happy in fact, the security guard did a little victory dance inside his office. But he wasn't so blinded by the euphoric high that he threw caution to the wind. He turned everything in the office off before silently creeping out into the western hall, even though the animatronics were nowhere in sight. The adolescent man shot his hand into the air in a victorious fist pump, but quickly resumed his less-than-stealthy skulking of the hall. He clung to the shadows like they were his lifeline and moved down until he came to the end of the hall. Quickly he pressed himself into the left corner of said hall.

The watchman hesitantly stuck his head out the from the corner his body was pressed against and took a quick, scrutinizing survey of the area. Everything inside the party room was as how it was left by the daytime employees. The hats were meticulously lined up in a single row for each corresponding row of seat, the whitewash tablecloths weren't overly disturbed by the robots' activities, the stage curtain was drawn and the lights were on.

Huh... let's hope they don't question me on that little detail...

Mike made deftly cautious strides through the maze of tables while keeping a keen eye on the machines. He was but several steps away from the hall that lead to the main entrance, when the sound of a child, crying, stopped him in his tracks. The sound resonated from the stage with the strength of a single voice until a second joined in for a duet of sorrow. Then another and another and another still until it was a harmonious sextet of despair. Such a sound laid a four hundred kilogram weight on the conscience of the poor souls whom heard it. His better judgement screamed to him, "Leave! Leave!" But another, more irresistible voice whispered to him, "Stay... stay...". These two conflicting voices tore the man in two; he was left torn as to what he should do. However, an entirely different voice got him to decide. This voice was malevolent and filled with wicked intentions, its moral compass was so obviously warped that it hurt, and seethed with pent up rage.

The new voice, verbally, bellowed to Mike, "Leave this place! NOW!"

With that clear warning Mike, regretfully, ran out of the establishment with his tail between his legs. He fumbled with the keys that jingled and clinked in his pocket, banged his calf against the skirt of his car, frantically pushed his way into the driver's seat-through the passenger's seat-and then hurriedly started the car. Then he drove off at a breakneck pace.

* * *

><p><strong><em><span>8:09 AM<span>_**

Mike flopped onto the soft covers of his bed and buried his face into the cool, plush pillow at the head of said bed. Out from his mouth, shaking the pillow casing, was a low and frustrated groan. It had been an exhausting night, and yet he could not fall asleep. The man had expected to have made it as far as the, small, couch before passing out. But now that he was here he simply couldn't find the slumber, he thought, he craved. Perhaps he was ill? Maybe the stress of the job was finally getting to him? Or is it that his sanity had snapped already, and now he was feeling the side-effects? Whatever the reason may have been, it could have been completely wrong or utterly insane, as long as it wouldn't make him dwell or even think about that dreaded voice. Even now he could recall it with crystal clear clarity. How deep it had been, how angry, how malevolent, especially the wicked intentions that oozed from its tone. The mere thought of the voice sent chills up the man's spine.

"What the hell was that...?" he quavered.

Despite his better judgement, Mike pondered the disembodied voice. What was it? Why was it so angry? What did it have to do with that establishment and/or the animatronics? Why did he care? He'd of happily chalked it up to the paranoia and stress the job came with, but something about the whole interaction was far too real for his lackluster imagination to come up with. Not to mention his imagination was nowhere near warped enough to imagine six children crying in utter sorrow, as far as he knew. Now that he focused more on the memory of the voice, he recalled that there had been a sense of familiarity about it. Such a feeling of déjà vu could only have stemmed from the knowing and hearing a voice of someone he knew. But whose voice was it? What voice reminded Mike of the evil, near demonic, entity that commanded him to leave? It was infuriating to think about, for when he thought he was just about to grab hold of the answer it pulled away at the last second. Eventually he gave up trying and decided to sleep. However, he did make it a point to wake up a few hours later and do a little investigating on the place he so blindly applied to.

"There..." he began with a yawn, eyes drooping. "are a few questions... that need answered..."


End file.
